


Cobwebs

by LuckyDiceKirby



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDiceKirby/pseuds/LuckyDiceKirby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet Vriska Serket when she knocks you over in the middle of the street. Things only go downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cobwebs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estuary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estuary/gifts).



> This is definitely different than what I’m used to writing, so I hope it turned out okay! 
> 
> Warning for a little ableist language because, well, Vriska. It’s not much, but I figured I should mention it anyway--it’s about on par with stuff she says in canon.

This is how you meet Vriska Serket: she runs into you and knocks you over on a busy street, she does not stop to apologize or offer you any help, and she keeps on running, hurtling headlong through the crowd without watching where she is going.

Considering what you later learn about her, this isn’t really surprising.

Porrim helps you up and assures you that your clothing is perfectly fine, but you aren’t listening. You don’t hear Porrim’s tutting about the rudeness of strangers, or Jade’s exasperated huff on your behalf. You’re staring at the path Vriska left, and thinking that somebody really needs to teach that poor girl how to dress better. 

Porrim asks if you’re alright, and you say, “Yes, of course, I’m fine. Let’s continue,” and no one says anything more about it. But you don’t forget about it, for reasons you can’t quite fathom—why should a rude girl on the street stick so in your mind? There was something about the tatters of her jeans, though, the specific way in which her jacket was shredded, that you can’t quite get out of your head.

You have always been the mothering type. Which is perhaps why you find yourself back on the exact same street corner the next day, feeling awkward and out of place, and carrying an old jacket you made while you were still in school. Not your best work, but still better than what that girl had been wearing.

Of course, you have no way of knowing if the she will be back, but you do know that if she does, she will certainly be easy to spot. 

For better or for worse, she does come back, although it takes a few days of waiting. She’s running through the street as recklessly as ever, and when you stop her and offer her the jacket she takes it. She blinks her uncovered eye at it, seemingly unsure what she’s supposed to do with it. 

“Put it on,” you suggest.

“What, are my clothes not good enough or something?” Her voice is sharp.

“I suppose I just thought you might be cold.”

“ _Please_ ,” she says, rolling her one good eye. “As if something like the weather could ever get Vriska Serket down!”

But still, she does allow you to drag her to the nearest coffee shop, and she makes no complaint when you buy her some hot chocolate along with the tea you get for yourself. 

-

You start meeting her at the coffee shop regularly, which is probably against your better judgment, because you know nothing about this girl. Except that she never brushes her hair and wears terrible clothing and has one of the sharpest smiles you’ve ever seen, and when she starts talking about something that excites her, she gets this gleam in her eye that you find incredibly striking. 

She’s not particularly polite, you suppose, but it’s almost endearing.

The fifth time that you meet, after she gets done telling you that your job at the fashion magazine sure does sound booooooooring, you lean over the table and kiss her, and ask her if that’s more interesting. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and half of you expects her to get up and leave, expects her to berate you for saying something so hopelessly cheesy, expects to never see her again. 

Vriska grins at you like she’s won a prize and says, “Took you long enough!”

-

Everything happens a bit…fast, after that. You aren’t usually one to jump into these things so quickly, but there is something captivating about Vriska, about the fact that she is apparently incapable of functioning like a normal human being without help. 

It’s something you and Porrim have always shared—the need to take care of people. 

Of course, Porrim probably doesn’t end up tumbling into bed with strange girls she meets on the street and gives clothes to unasked. That’s probably just you.

-

These are things you learn about Vriska, those first few weeks:

\- Vriska eats like she’s been half starved all her life, which could be true, for all you know. But then again, it could just be how she is.  
\- She is also a terrible cook, meaning that the responsibility of satiating her aforementioned appetite, naturally, falls on your shoulders. You find you don’t mind as much as you should.  
\- She hogs the covers, and every night that she stays over at your place, you wake up shivering. You don’t mind that as much as you should, either. 

These are things you do not learn about Vriska:

\- Where she lives.  
\- What she does for a living, if anything.  
\- What she does, in general, when she is not with you.

Vriska just drops in whenever she feels like it, whether that means coming by your office when you need to be working, or stopping by your apartment at odd times, uninvited.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Jade over the phone, one morning, after you oversleep and miss a breakfast you were supposed to have together. “I had a visitor rather late last night, and I lost track of time.”

“Ooh, a _visitor_?” Jade asks.

“Jumping to conclusions isn’t polite,” you say, but Jade ignores you, and, well—she is right, after all.

“So when are we gonna get to meet the lucky lady?” 

You look over at Vriska, who is lounging on your bed with her head over the side, wearing (and creasing) a pair of your pajama bottoms and little else, and giving you an impatient look and gesturing for you to hurry up and get off the phone already!

You sigh. “I’ll do my best,” you say. 

-

Vriska rolls her eyes at you when you ask. “Whatever,” she says. “If you want me to meet your friends, then that’s cool, I guess. Just promise me they won’t be annoying or boring or something stupid like that.”

You assure her that they won’t be, while in the back of your head you wonder if this means that Vriska is your girlfriend, or at least something more than someone who you sleep with and provide food for. 

Somehow, you think that asking her wouldn’t be a very good idea. 

-

“Can we just _go_ already? Geez, how much more fussy can you get?”

“I simply want to make a good impression,” you say, gesturing for Vriska to turn around again. Hmm. Maybe this dress wasn’t a good idea after all—

“I’m impressive enough without wearing some fancy clothes you made me!” she snaps, spinning back around. “Stop worrying about it and let’s go!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to be fashionably late? That seems like something you would do,” you say, placatingly. 

That gets a smile out of her. “Well, duh,” she says. “But if we’re gonna kill some time there are better things to do than sit around and worry about my outfit.” You let her kiss you, even though it means you’ll have to redo your makeup.

You end up being a little more than fashionably late to the party. 

-

You’re late to the party, and you leave early too, because while things had started off fine—Vriska bonded with John over an apparent shared love of all things Nicolas Cage (yet another thing you didn’t know about her)—they go downhill quickly from there.

Apparently Vriska and Terezi know each other. You learn this when Vriska drapes an arm around Terezi’s shoulder and says, “Heeeeeeeey, long time no see! Oh, sorry, is that insensitive?”

Terezi pushes her off. “Ugh, who decided it was a good idea to let you in?” she asks, and then she snorts. “Got another one in your clutches, Serket?”

“Jealous?” Vriska asks, grin sharp and mean.

Terezi’s smile is all teeth—you’ve never seen her like this, and as you hurry over, you wonder what piece of this puzzle you’re missing.

You’ve never asked Terezi how she lost her sight, although you know she was not blind from birth. You’ve never asked Vriska what happened to her eye, either—it seemed like a mystery best left for later, behind other, simpler things. Like her place of residence, for starters.

Perhaps that was a mistake.

You lay a hand on Vriska’s shoulder, and she stops speaking, mid-invective. Terezi cocks her head to the side.

“It’s Kanaya,” you say, answering her unspoken question.

Terezi sighs. “I should have known,” she says. “She smells like that terrible cinnamon shampoo you use. Bluh.” She sticks her tongue out in order to more fully display her disgust. You roll your eyes—you’ve always found Terezi’s antics faintly amusing.

“Oh, please,” says Vriska, “don’t even start with that magic sense of smell bullshit. Everyone knows you’re just a big fake, Pyrope.”

“Listen,” you say, darting your eyes between the two of them, “I am getting the impression that there are some past grievances you two should address—skirting around the issue is never helpful.”

Vriska shrugs your arm off. “As if I have time for that! Stay and meddle if you like, Maryam, but I’m leaving.” She stomps out, and watching her go, you note that the dress turned out to be a good idea after all—it looks quite nice.

You murmur something apologetic to Terezi, who looks like she has more to say to you, but you’re Vriska’s ride, and you wouldn’t put it past her to try to walk home (wherever that is) alone in the cold.

You nod to Porrim on your way out, and you really are going to have to properly apologize to her later, for leaving her party so early. 

And now that you think about it, Jade never did get to meet Vriska. 

Despite what you thought, Vriska’s leaning against the wall outside of Porrim’s apartment building, arms crossed over her chest.

You can’t help but smile. She was waiting for you after all. 

“So,” says Vriska. “Wanna go back to my place?”

-

Vriska’s home is not what you expected.

You’re not really sure what you did expect, but it wasn’t this. _This_ being something that you’re fairly confident could be properly called a mansion. 

As you gaze about her home, Vriska shifts from foot to foot. You must be making her uncomfortable, but you can’t seem to stop gaping. The décor is old-fashioned, but still quite nice. This place puts your apartment very much to shame. 

“Your home is lovely,” you say eventually, when the silence becomes too much.

Vriska shrugs. “It’s alright, I guess. If you like that sort of thing.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you start, although you’re sure Vriska does mind, and you’re also sure that you want to ask anyway, “do you live here alone?”

“Yeah,” Vriska says, like it’s normal that she lives by herself in a house easily big enough for a large family. “It was my mom’s place before she kicked it, and my sister and I don’t really get along, so I get it all to myself! Pretty sweet, huh?”

You agree that it is, although you privately think that being all alone in this enormous house cannot be good for Vriska. 

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” you say, in lieu of sharing your thoughts on Vriska’s living arrangements. 

“Ugh, let’s not talk about her, she’s a big pain in the ass,” Vriska says. “Like your sister. Who invites Pyrope to parties, anyway? She should be afraid she’ll lick all the walls or something else ridiculous.”

You blink, and say, “Porrim and I get along quite well, actually.” You should probably be trying to defend Porrim’s honor, or something like that. Vriska never even got a chance to speak to her, though, so you’re not sure there’s any point. “I’m sure if you made an effort with your sister, things could be worked out.” 

“Oh my god, stop trying to make me have heart-to-hearts with all the idiots I know,” she says. “There’s so many of them, it would take forever! And be totally pointless and stupid.”

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can figure out what, precisely, you want to say, Vriska has you backed up against a wall. You try not to think about all the dust it’s probably getting on your clothes, and to focus on the fact that Vriska is kissing you. It’s not a particularly difficult task. 

This really is something you should probably talk about, the fact that Vriska seems to have left a string of failed interpersonal relationships behind her. And you do intend to bring it up again, you do, but the thought gets lost somewhere on the way up the stairs to Vriska’s room.

-

The next morning you wake up in Vriska’s bed instead of your own, although Vriska has, of course, stolen all the covers overnight. She’s also dead to the world, and when you attempt to wake her she just rolls over and buries her head deeper into her pillow.

Well. If you’re here, you might as well explore a little bit. You didn’t get a chance to see much of the house last night, and you’re almost positive that Vriska was trying to distract you for a reason. 

You mean to go poking around a few of the many hallways you passed on the way up to Vriska’s bedroom, but you end up unable to actually leave her room at all, because after you step out of bed your foot immediately encounters a stray die, and, well. It can’t hurt to tidy up a bit, can it?

It’s not as if Vriska would ever do it herself. You scoop the many dice you find into a neat pile in one corner, and wonder what Vriska does with that many dice, anyway. She must be into roleplaying games, like Terezi, which might explain how they know each other. 

You’re don’t think most people get that vitriolic over games, though, but what do you know? You’ve never really played any. 

After cleaning up the dice, it seems only natural to move on to the rest of the room, although you are frequently sidetracked. You’ve just come upon what looks like an old roleplaying book, with scribbled drawings and sheets full of character stats tucked into the corners, but before you can investigate further the book is unceremoniously grabbed from your hands.

It seems that Vriska is awake, then.

“Stay out of my stuff, Fussyfangs,” she says.

“Fangs?” you ask, honestly curious. “Where did that come from?”

Vriska laughs. “Oh, come on.” she says. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice all those vampire novels you keep shoving under your bed? Talk about trashy! Maybe you should’ve been snooping around my bookshelves instead, you could’ve found some better reading material!” 

You feel yourself flush. “There’s nothing wrong with my taste in books,” you say archly, and Vriska just rolls her eyes.

“Please. Do you have some sort of fetish I should know about, is that it?”

This is ridiculous. You are not going to stand here and listen to Vriska make fun of you. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been going through her room, but how else are you supposed to get to know her if she won’t just _tell_ you anything? “I’m leaving,” you say shortly, stooping down to gather your things.

Vriska sighs hugely, throwing her arms out wide. “Sorry,” she says, not sounding it at all. “If you want to read your stupid vampire books, I guess it’s not that big a deal.”

“I don’t think I asked for your approval,” you say, standing back up, hitching your bag up on your shoulder. 

Vriska’s not listening, though, she’s peering around the room and wrinkling her nose. “Were you cleaning up my stuff? Are you serious, Fussyfangs?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s totally true, though! You are the fussiest. How did you even manage to pick up all those dice? There were practically all of the dice in here. All of them! I step on them all the time!”

“Maybe you should take better care of your room, then,” you say.

“I have way better things to do that clean. And so do you! Seriously, don’t bother, it’s not a big deal.”

Your attempts to explain to Vriska the relative merits of cleaning her room once in awhile do not go well, and eventually she talks you into making her pancakes. She keeps calling you ‘Fussyfangs’, and it makes you wince a little each time, because although you know you have nothing to be ashamed of, you can’t help but be a little embarrassed by her obvious disdain for your taste in literature. You decide it’s not worth the argument, though, to try and convince her to stop. 

-

Porrim calls you later that day. You aren’t really surprised. The two of you make polite conversation for a few minutes, until Porrim tires of beating around the bush.

“You left my party early last night,” she says.

“I apologize,” you say. “I would have at least said goodbye, but, well…”

“Your new girlfriend got into a fight with Terezi and stormed out,” Porrim finishes for you. “I did notice.”

“Ah,” you say, wondering if it would be dishonest to let her think that Vriska is your girlfriend, and also wondering if it would be dishonest to let her think that she isn’t. “Yes. I am sorry about that too. Um. I hope your party was not disrupted.” For all that she is your sister, Porrim makes you feel nervous sometimes. In many ways, she is everything that you wish to be—calm and collected, always knowing what to do, what to say. She doesn’t get herself into these sorts of situations.

Porrim sighs. “It’s not my party that I’m worried about, Kanaya,” she says. “Didn’t she run into you when we were walking home, once? I seem to remember that.”

“I believe so,” you say. “At least, I think it was her. We met again later, and, well. One thing led to another, I suppose.” As you say it, you realize you are lying, by omission, if nothing else. But you don’t want to tell Porrim that you deliberately sought Vriska out, because it makes you sound like a stalker, which isn’t true at all. She piqued your interest, which is entirely different. 

“Right,” says Porrim. “How much do you know about Vriska, Kanaya?”

Despite yourself, you bristle. “I don’t see how it’s any business of yours,” you say. “I am perfectly capable of conducting my own relationships in the way I see fit.”

“I know,” she says. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Kanaya. I’m just worried.”

“Is it really that important that she doesn’t get along with Terezi?” you ask. “She can be a bit abrasive, I know, but I really—” 

You don’t finish speaking, because you’re not sure what you’re trying to say. You really _something_. You just don’t know what.

“It’s not just that she and Terezi don’t get along,” Porrim says. “Terezi has a good reason not to like her. She did some really stupid things when she was a kid. It ended poorly.”

“Most people do something they later live to regret when they are young,” you say. “That’s no reason to give up on someone as a lost cause.”

“Kanaya. I don’t claim to know all the details, but I know she was heavily involved in both Terezi and Tavros’ accidents.”

You can’t really say you’re surprised. “I can help her,” you say. “If she needs someone to keep her in check, I can do that.”

“Do you want to be her girlfriend or her babysitter?” Porrim asks. 

You want to say _Is there any reason I can’t be both_ , but that doesn’t sound quite right, so you hang up instead.

-

You continue to cook Vriska meals and force her to brush her hair every now and then, and she continues to steal the covers and steal your food and steal time that you used to devote to other things—your job, your silly vampire books, your friends.

When you sit in a café and Vriska complains loudly about the waitress, or when she tells you how annoying the secretary in your office is, or when she pesters you in the middle of the night to rage about Terezi, you obligingly calm her down, but sometimes, you also wonder. 

-

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--

TT: Hello.  
GA: Hello Rose  
GA: To What Do I Owe The Pleasure Of Your Company  
GA: Well I Say Company Which Is Not Technically Accurate As We Are Communicating Through Pesterchum  
GA: And Are Thus Not Actually Sharing Space  
GA: You Know What I Mean  
TT: Judging by your unnecessarily longwinded greeting, I can only assume that you know exactly what I want to talk to you about.  
GA: I Suppose I Do Yes  
GA: Forgive Me If I Am Not Especially Eager To Discuss The Subject  
TT: Because you don’t really need your ex critiquing your current relationship, right?  
GA: I Was Going To Say Something A Bit More Tactful  
GA: But Yes That’s About It  
TT: You’re probably right.  
TT: But as your friend, I think I need to say something anyway.  
TT: Porrim was probably too polite to come out and say it, but I suffer from no such compunctions.  
TT: To put it bluntly: Vriska Serket is dangerous. You should stay away from her.  
GA: Yes You Are The Expert On Such Matters Are You Not  
GA: Do You Even Know Her  
TT: I know her history.  
GA: Why Is Everyone So Intent On Keeping Themselves Entangled In The Past  
GA: People Can Change  
TT: Just because they can doesn’t mean that they inevitably will.   
TT: Kanaya, why have you been missing our book club meetings?  
TT: I know Karkat has been disappointed in the lack of a more lively discussion.  
TT: And by ‘lively discussion’ I think he means ‘shouting match.’  
GA: I Do Not Shout  
GA: I Merely Discuss  
GA: And I Have Been Busy  
GA: Things Come Up  
TT: Three weeks in a row?  
GA: I Have Things To Do  
TT: Yes. I suppose you do.   
TT: I’ll let you get back to that busy life of yours, if you like.  
TT: I do have one thing to say before I go, though.  
TT: I know that things have not always been easy between us, but I do care for you, and so does everyone else. We’re your friends, Kanaya.  
TT: And if you ever want to talk, we’re here.   
GA: I Know  
GA: And Believe Me I Do Appreciate The Gesture  
GA: But I Can Take Care Of Myself

\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

-

“Vriska,” you start, one night, because the curiosity is eating you alive, in a way that leaves you feeling hollow and as if maybe you really are in over your head, “what happened to Tavros?”

You’d thought that asking her as she was just falling asleep would put you at a tactical advantage, that her sleep-addled state might make her more compliant. You even preemptively let her steal the blankets.

You were wrong. She’s upright and out of bed before you can blink.

“Let me guess. Pyrope’s got her claws in you, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar, Kanaya? Because you are. You’re the worst liar there is.” Vriska starts pulling on her clothes haphazardly, and despite everything, you cannot help but feel the urge to straighten the folds, to pat down her hair where it’s started to stick up. She’s managed to pull the blanket off the bed in her haste, and you sit up, curling your arms around your knees in an attempt both to keep warm, and to keep yourself from touching her.

“What have they been telling you about me?” she demands. “Let me guess. That I’m a huge bitch, right? That it’s my fault that Tavros is a cripple and Terezi’s blind and that Aradia doesn’t talk to any of us anymore? As if I did all that myself. It’s not my fault they’re idiots and can’t take care of themselves. I’m stuck with one eye and this stupid eyepatch and you don’t see me complaining about it, do you?”

“I’m merely concerned for your wellbeing,” you say. “I thought perhaps you might be able to make amends, if you would just explain the situation to me.” 

Vriska scoffs. “Not everything can be fixed! Why would I even want to fix it? Terezi’s a snob now and Tavros is boring and no one even knows where Aradia is! Maybe I’m better off without all those losers, did you ever think of that?”

“But you’re lonely,” you say, thinking of the fact that despite claiming to hate her, Vriska talks about Terezi all the time, and the fact that she made you watch _Hook_ with her and she said all the lines along with the movie, obnoxiously. You know that movie is Tavros’ favorite. 

By the look on Vriska’s face, you immediately know it was the wrong thing to say.

“Fussyfangs, you don’t know _anything_ ,” she says, and then she storms out, in the truest sense of the word—as she leaves, you feel as though you’ve been swept up in something bigger than yourself.

With a sigh, you go back to bed, shivering. You think Vriska will probably come back, either later tonight or tomorrow or maybe a week from now. And whether or not she does, you know that you will continue to wake up cold.


End file.
